


383YE Autumn - The Strength To Carry On

by Adenar



Series: Delora i Sol-Devorador i Erigo [2]
Category: Empire (Live-Action Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:54:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25151965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenar/pseuds/Adenar
Summary: The Masks of Erigo raced across Segura to bring aid to Feroz - only to find Feroz ceded, locked down, and no battle to be had. Together, the kohan band mourns the loss of the territory - a territory many called home - and Delora attempts to find them the motivation to move forward and fight another day.
Series: Delora i Sol-Devorador i Erigo [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1822060





	383YE Autumn - The Strength To Carry On

"So the first to go were the Painted Ones? Or the Harpies?"

"Both?" Delora replied, circling the edge of her glass with a languid finger. "It was just a couple of people who came independently from their own banners. I know Aracelis and Vito were the first? Maybe Xalvadora?"

"I don't know why you'd want to fight anywhere other than the Coast." Suero said, disapprovingly.

"You're right, I can't  _ think _ what possessed them." Delora quipped back. The syrah was pleasant, and they had enough good food on their table to share. Where she wasn't normally the sort that was confident enough to tease and joke, the relaxed atmosphere guided her towards merriment outside her comfort zone. It had been some days since they had sat down and joked together like this. Itri was elsewhere, speaking to a dhomiro of some refugees, and Clarissa was reclining at their camp in her naga way. The rest of the Masks had decided to meet at a local parador.

"It could be a fun way to see new places." Paola, youngest of the kohan and not yet fully adult, suggested. She had been the most interested in stories of Delora's adventures far away. "Where have you fought?"

"Not many places, so far." Delora said. "Wintermark was probably the furthest."

"What was it like?"

"Cold. That was the honour battle, remember?"

"Yeessss." Dihya replied. "Imagine being such a pain in the ass that you annoy Imperials at opposite ends of the Empire."

Many chuckled in response. "At least we knew what to expect." Delora replied.

"I hope the Druj don't get ideas."

"But you could fight anywhere in the Empire?"

"Yes." Delora said. "Do you remember I told you about the orc who writes journals about the Anvil battles? Next time I'll look up some other battles for you."

"Yes!" Guda agreed. "Find a new one to tell us about each time you go."

"She's only written a few."

"That's at least two years of stories." Suero said.

Delora laughed. "Do you want to make me a kohan or a historian?"

They chuckled again, and the conversation lapsed for a moment as they all sipped their drinks.

"I would not want to die so far from home." Suero commented.

"Many feel the same." Delora replied. "It's only a few hundred warriors who come every season."

" _ I _ think it sounds very kohan." Guda said. "Why wouldn’t you seek the most fearsome battles the Empire has to offer?"

"Who said they fight more fearsome battles than us?" Suero argued.

"At Anvil you could fight heralds, strange monsters, giants…" Delora said, "the battles are great feats, but the skirmishes are where the challenges really lie."

"What skirmishes have  _ you _ been on?"

Delora hesitated. She hadn’t been in many smaller battles. The ones she’d heard of, or attended to afterwards in the hospital, were far more interesting. "I freed some refugees from grendel slavers."

Suero scoffed. "Yes, very fearsome."

"Drink your syrah old man, and stop being such a grump." Guda retorted.

"You want to die in Wintermark, boy?"

"Fighting an ice giant? I would gladly warm the Mark for a night."

Guda scoffed. "You're a fool."

"If I didn't know you better, I'd call you a coward."

"You need to learn wisdom in your love of battle, boy." Suero scolded. "Those Anvil kohan will end up dying in a ditch in the Barrens, left to rot, or with their souls stuck in Spiral, whichever's worse."

“Then I’d take it as the greatest test of Courage.” Guda retorted.

“Save me your premature bragging, child. You’re an idiot if you think a grand battle is worth risking eternal torture.”

“I-” Delora tried to interrupt.

“Virtues, Suero, you sound like a stuffy pilgrim.”

“Put your money where your mouth is and take your fight to Spiral. See how your soul likes the Black Plateau.”

"If I died in Spiral," Delora snapped, "then at least my sister's soul would have company."

The atmosphere slowed as the others, surprised, reacted to Delora's uncharacteristic outburst.

“We’re part of an Empire. The people I love the most have risked their lives to protect it, from here all the way to Semmersuaq. Are you forgetting the Dawnish armies that fought for Segura? Was their sacrifice for us foolish?”

After a moment, Suero went to reply, but Dihya hushed him.

"I'm sure Alix’s soul left the labyrinth a long time ago." Paola said, after a pause.

"Whatever souls are stranded there will be stuck for two years now, with the grendel in control.” Delora replied, trying not to let her emotions run faster than she could articulate them. “So I go to Anvil, and I find out if there's a way I can help, and if I die, I make sure I take as many grendel down with me as I can." Delora paused, breathed, looked down at her glass, then held it oustretched. “Less debate, more syrah please.”

"All kohan find their own way." Merche said while pouring. "We should not fight over the worst way to die. We should fight over the best."

"Ah! I always think of Banafsaj," Dihya said, "and how she took down three Jotun before she succumbed. One with her hammer, one with their comrades' own knife," she gestured vividly as she recounted the fight, "and she almost took the last one's head clean off with that axe. When I stopped screaming her name, and we had brought her body back, I swore to remember the beauty of her Courage."

"Banafsaj i Riqueza." Merche sighed. "That joker. Virtues, I miss her. She knew she was surrounded but it only made her more dangerous."

"A cornered wolf can only strike." Delora said.

"A cornered hyena, maybe." Merche chuckled.

"To Banafsaj." Dihya said, and raised her glass.

"To Banafsaj!"

"My father always told me of his friend, during the War for Segura." Guda began.

"Oh yes, I like this one." Paola said, with glee.

"Their name was Razin." Guda said. "Razin i Calamoya i Guerra. Dad said they were a fiend with twin blades. Razin had fought with the Red Wind Corsairs, but was too much of a troublemaker, too independent on the battlefield, so the Red Wind Corsairs kicked Razin out. Should have been a kohan, Dad said, but there were family contracts to fulfil. Together, Razin and Dad and some friends formed their own group to help refugees through…"

Delora started to tune out Guda's tale. Her mind was elsewhere, and her indignation at Suero burned like embers in her chest. The scene around them bustled on: displaced families sharing and trading possessions; people making social calls to friends and once-neighbours; and aid-bringers coming to and fro through the camps. What now? Delora had come, fresh off the victory in Feroz at the Summer Solstice, ready to charge with the Masks to Feroz’s aid. Now they were stuck on a border to a Feroz that was unsaveable. In the refugee camps, kohan fury was as useful as a crack in a hull. Delora had seethed inwardly each night since they'd arrived at the border.

A short figure appeared at their table, clad in red clothes and golden scale. "Excuse me, are you the Masks of Erigo?"

"That's us." Dihya replied, gesturing at their facial markings. "Itri's our leader, she's-"

"Sorry," the figure interrupted, "I'm after Delora i Erigo."

Delora raised an eyebrow, and examined the figure with further scrutiny. The scale was well-worn but well-cared for, and she realised that the clothes were plain enough to be uniform. Her eyes rested on a badge holding the cloak together - a badge with the emblem of the Fire of South.

"Ooh, who's out here dropping your family name?" asked Guda.

"I'm Delora."

"I have a letter here from General Aracelis."

The other Masks coo'd delightedly.

Delora settled payment, took the letter, and settled down to read. Suero tried to ask her to read it out loud, but Merche hushed him.

"Aracelis confirms what we know. 6 months to evacuate, ceasefire for two years. Spiral also ceded."

"Spiral's been screwed for years, what's still there to cede?"

"Shh!"

"The rest is…" Delora scanned the page, and the Masks waited silently. "Just words of encouragement. For all of us."

"So no fighting here, unless we want to make enemies of the Grendel and  _ our own nation _ ." Dihya summarised.

"So now? We just trekked here."

"I said to just stay in Segura." Suero commented, with the words ‘I told you so’ clearly sitting on the tip of his lips.

"Stay in Segura and what?  _ Not  _ fight the grendel?"

"Don’t play dumb. Stay and finish the Lasambrians."

"Forget an army and go beat up some stragglers? That's  _ very _ kohan.”

"You - see me outside camp, Dihya." Suero threatened, standing up.

"Coward, I'll bend you over my knee!" Dihya declared, rising to meet him.

"I've had it with-"

"Masks!"

As the other Masks pulled the arguing duo back down, Itri strolled towards them.

"Sit down." Itri commanded. As she came to the table, she gently folded to her knees, and looked pointedly around the table. "Delora, what does your letter say?"

"Just what we know."

"And? Nothing else?"

Delora looked at the letter again. "Aracelis says that it was contentious at Anvil - that we need to remember we value people, not land."

Suero slammed an open palm against the floor beside him.

"Go get Clarissa." Itri told him.

"I won't be ordered about like-"

"You're being such a piece of-" Dihya started up again.

"Stop!" Itri yelled, just as the others around the table started up. "Enough of this!"

"This is bullshit!" Suero bellowed. "People?! Not land?! You go tell these people that they shouldn't value their land! Their homes! Their towns! Their ships! These people  _ are _ their land!"

"Then go to Feroz yourself, idiot, and see how many grendel you can take with you!"

"I'd take more than the fucking homeless - thieving - tree-swingers did!"

A few refugees were watching, but arguments had been commonplace in the camp, and no one wanted to wade into a kohan scrap.

"You're all cowards! The Empire doesn't give a shit! They're sitting in their castles bribing and murdering each other for the throne! You want to die in Spiral, you want to piss about while Freeborn are enslaved? Go fuck an orc!"

Suero stormed off.

"Go fuck your sword, dickhead!" Dihya called, as Suero left earshot.

Itri rolled her eyes and shook her head. "You're an idiot for provoking him," she told Dihya.

"It doesn't take much. He's been pissy all evening."

"He loses his family and his homeland in a year and you expect him to  _ not _ be Freeborn about it?"

"Yeah, I didn't kill his husband, did I?"

"By the virtues…" Guda groaned.

“Too far, Dihya.”

"One day Suero will go for your head and I won't stop him, Dihya." Itri said.

"You better not. I'll run him through if he tries."

“I hope you run each other through and put me out of my misery.”

"Shall I give you something better to run through?" Delora asked.

"Not unless it's grendel."

"Then you can sit here and mope with  _ him _ ." Delora replied. She turned to Itri. "Aracelis asks if I can bring everyone and meet her and the other armies."

"We  _ just _ came from there." Paola moaned. 

"I know, but who else can we fight?"

"Suero or Dihya, at this rate." Guda quipped.

"I'm not afraid of them. Clarissa would take them out." Paolo said.

"Rissa isn-" Dihya began.

"Clarissa would skin us all alive, and then use our bodies for pillows." Guda interrupted, smirking.

Delora and Paola nodded in amused agreement.

“She’s a naga, not a draughir. She’d be too lazy for all that.”

“She wasn’t too lazy for those Stone Born last year.” Paola replied.

Dihya groaned. “You’ve got an answer for everything.”

"Can we go back to the letter?” Delora asked, impatiently. “I’m sure Aracelis would be happy to meet you all. I reckon there’ll be other kohan with her there too.”

“I know I’d like to meet your famous general,” Itri said, “but I’m not ready to say goodbye to Feroz yet. What about you lot?”

Paola shifted her weight, ponderously. “I want to...stab things.” Paola replied. “That’s it. I want to hurt something. I’m angry. I hate sitting here. I can’t do anything here. I’m sick of this camp. I’m sick of everyone else’s emotions. I just want to stab something.”

A moment of silence followed, as everyone digested the unexpected openness of their youngest comrade.

“It’s not very kohan, but I like helping the refugees.” Dihya said. “Maybe, because I spent my life fighting, it’s a nice change to do something peaceful. Be a hearth fire for once.”

“I’m obviously more useful here than the rest of the kohan.” Delora said. “I need to restock my herbs but I can sew people up at least. So I don’t feel as frustrated or useless. I’ll stay as long as everyone else wants to stay.”

Itri looked to Guda. “You’re Feroz-born, Guda,” she said, “what about you?”

Guda sighed. “I...don’t know.” He began, haltingly. “I don’t know how to say it. My home - my home’s just over there. I could take you to the Spice Gardens in my sleep. The fact that I can’t just up and...trying to get that in my head is like trying to get a brick through a keyhole. It’s a day and a morning to my Mum’s shop. Another half day and you’re at the sea. You stop at Taslima’s for honey cake and mint tea on the way back, obviously. I try and think about none of that being there anymore. How do I do that? Why would I think it would ever not be there?”

Dihya laid a hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t sleep, so I go and sit at the edge of the camp and watch the stars and the sand. I imagine walking the dunes back to where I grew up until I fall asleep where I’m sitting. Last night I dreamed that I just got up and went. I walked for a day and a morning. When I got there everything was just how it always was - Mum came out and told me off for not writing and I went in and had lunch. All the neighbours came in to hear about Segura: my cousins were there; old Amira who taught me to fight; Tariq from the butcher’s; all the kids I grew up with...Everything was as it - was normal, and I was so happy, and it felt so real, and when I woke up I forgot where I was and couldn’t figure out why I was asleep by myself in the desert. When I realised none of it was real - it was like the moment we got here, but worse. I couldn’t stop crying. I wanted to run over the dunes and find the next grendel moridun and rip them to shreds. I swore at the refugees who came to see if I was alright. I was - I was ashamed. But I was angry. Too angry to stop. Too angry to feel regret.” Guda paused to wipe his cheeks. “It’s funny. Suero’s an arse, and he’ll always be an arse. He’ll always be my kohan family, but I’ll never like him. But today at least I understand him.”

No one responded, and Guda let a sad silence fall. Dihya gently held his shoulder. Paola stared at the floor. Delora circled the rim of her glass of syrah, and took a ruminative sip.

“As kohan, we give up family, and many of us give up our claim to our homes and land,” Itri said, “but it is never as easy as that.” She looked towards Delora. “You know that, and that’s why you won’t stay.”

Delora smiled wistfully. “If this had been Siroc...hm. I might even have paid the termination fee to leave.”

“You’d have come back to fight the grendel though!” Paola said.

“Ha. Yes. Yes, I would.”

“I only wanted to be a kohan growing up.” Guda said. “Never anything else. I still don’t want anything else. I knew when I left, it was forever. But knowing I can’t go back at all...” He took a deep breath that shook his shoulders, and sighed. “To Feroz.” He offered, but his tone was flat.

“To Feroz,” they toasted, for the many-th time.

Before anything else could be said, the figures of Clarissa and Suero appeared around a tent. As they reached the group, Clarissa slid to the floor beside Dihya.

“You know you’re not allowed to try and kill each other without inviting me,” she teased.

Dihya rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”

“Mm, a little late for that, issn’t it?” Clarissa responded. “What’ss the plan, then, Itri? Are we heading to Ssegura?”

“I respect the opinions of those who want to stay a little longer. In two nights’ time we will pack, and leave in the morning. We will head back to Segura. Yes,” Itri interrupted Suero, who had gone to speak, “it’s annoying to go back. You want to stay here and cause a national incident, go ahead. You’re a big boy now and you can decide your own death. I take no responsibility for your lack of control. But our choice is Jotun or bandits. None of us would choose bandits.”

“I don’t know.” Guda teased. “The bandits are usually prettier.”

Most of them laughed. Suero did not, and continued to scowl, but the atmosphere had lightened again.

As everyone settled down again, she turned the letter from Aracelis over in her fingers.  _ Firstly, we missed you at Anvil this season _ . The words had made her heart do a strange sort of leap, the same way it did anytime someone expressed such a sentiment. She wasn’t used to being missed, except by her mother, and even she at times had seemed to grow tired of saying it. Perhaps, if Delora had been better at writing…

_ Anvil.  _ In a moment, that sentence had conjured up the vivid memory of the Anvil kohan camp; the tables, the rugs, the mess of food and paint and weapons that were always strewn across the tables and the tent walls. Vito and his shock of red beard lounging, telling stories; Santana bulldozing through the camp, somehow eternally covered in some assortment of blood, bandages and magical items; Xalvadora’s cheeky smile and her constant enthusiasm; the Zemress group and their combination of fascination and self-assuredness; the sound of Luzia’s voice echoing across the camp (scolding, joking, laughing, perhaps all three); and so many others who she’d somehow still not gotten to know. She could practically feel the touch of a hand on her shoulder as Florina came by to socialise, and check that her sister was still in one piece. She would look over into the camp, see Vrael talking to some skirmish captains one second, and then find him gone the next. A jackal’s mask would glint in the sun as that familiar young boy came to see what mischief could be had, his curiosity and enthusiasm about the kohan barely concealed beneath his mask. Later in the day she would visit the Fijadoz tent, and - her heart twinged at the memory of Sol. Somehow, she would end up having dinner with Inez and the two would make light conversation, not entirely sure what to make of the other, but not unhappy for the company.

Paola was eyeing the letter, politely restraining herself from reading it over Delora’s shoulder. “I think one day I’ll go to Anvil.” Paola murmured.

Delora smiled. “I think you would like it.”

Someone like Paola absolutely would; Paola was sociable, positive, funny, and seemed to never run out of energy. Every now and then she would do something ridiculous and Delora would smile, pushing down the guilt that being reminded of Alix made her feel. The Anvil kohan would love Paola.

“You have to write to us when you leave.” Paola said.

“You have to write back.” Delora replied.

Paola smiled. “I’ll write even if you don’t. You’ll get sick of me.”

Delora shook her head. “I never get tired of letters.”

She spoke with levity, but she knew Paola could tell she was sincere. There had been a time in her life when letters weren’t welcome, when they were a reminder of things she wanted to leave behind. Now they were a soothing, exciting presence. Now they reminded her of better things.

_ Draw upon the teaching of the Kohan at this time. Hold the Masks together and encourage them to remember the old ways. _

Delora exhaled through her nose. Was Aracelis saying this because she believed Delora could do it, or because she believed Delora needed direction? Delora wasn’t used to being the one to hold things together - that was Florina and Naia - but she knew she was in a unique position in the Masks. If she could live up to even the most basic of hopes people had in her, maybe she would have done some good.

“Are we done?” Clarissa asked.

“Yes.”

“Wonderful. Fantasstic. Good night. Ssweet dreamss.” Clarissa hissed at them, topping up her glass before heading back to the camp.

Delora took this as her cue to do the same. She stood up, and walked over to Suero. 

“If we’re going to fight jotun, I’m going to need someone to practise against an axe with.” Delora said, knowing that she was volunteering herself to be Suero’s punching bag for a few days, but also knowing that he needed something else to focus on.

Suero wrinkled his nose, sighed in a way that almost passed as a growl, and tutted. “You need more than a practise partner, child. You need a miracle.”

“Mm. While I’m waiting for that, meet you by the Guerrerez parador before breakfast?”

“Fine. I hope the hospital can spare you.”

“Oh, they’ll be-”

“Because you’ll be spending the day patching yourself up.”

“-fine w - urgh.” Delora rolled her eyes, biting back a ruder retort. “Get to bed then,” she told him, poking him on the shoulder.

Suero eyed her, then barked a laugh. “You think I need a nights’ sleep to beat you up?”

“No, I think you need a nights’ sleep for us to enjoy it.” Delora said. She leaned over his shoulder and clinked her glass against his. “Here’s to me learning not to leave myself open on the left.”

Suero was silent for a moment as she walked away, then almost chuckled. “You’re alright, gate-hopper.”

Delora kept walking towards their camp. As she reached Clarissa, she sipped the last of her syrah, and took out her quill and ink. Clarissa wrapped her blanket over herself and came to sit next to Delora, expectantly. Delora smiled and shook her head. Clarissa would not even pretend to have Paola’s manners.

_ Aracelis. _

_ I’ve been speaking to the Masks. I think we’ve all needed a little time… _

_...it will be good to see you again, and anyone else from Anvil who’s joined you… _

_...the last they heard of you was you and Samu gouging out a land shark’s eyes, so they’re pretty keen on you… _

_...see you shortly (hopefully), _

_ Delora. _

Clarissa silently nodded her approval. “You’re going to edit thiss when I’m not looking, aren’t you?”

“Of course.”

Clarissa nodded. She left Delora’s side, and went back to her bedroll. “I will be happy to be away.”

“Me too.”

“I hope you can tire out Ssuero tomorrow.” Clarissa said, getting into bed. “I am ssick of hiss temper. It will help him, for now, to tire himsself out.”

“I think so too.”

“Goodnight, baby kohan.”

“Ssweet dreamss, Clarisssa.” Delora hissed at her.

Clarissa smiled. She did not mind being teased, when it was a Mask doing it.

Delora rolled up the parchment, but did not seal it. She would rewrite it in a few days’ time, when they were about to leave. As she prepared for bed, she let memories of Anvil amble freely through her mind, switching from one memory to the next, seemingly unrelated, as memories do when they can sense the liberty that sleep brings. The taste of fizzy blackcurrant. Dino giving her potions, ‘just in case’. The smell of Florina’s hair as she kissed it at the sentinel gate. The shine of Sadiq’s armour in the sun.

Delora rested her head back against the pillow, and stared at the sky. The memories chased thoughts of Feroz out of her mind, even briefly. That, and many other things, she was grateful for.

_ See you shortly. _

She closed her eyes, and for the first time in a while, she was not scared of what sleep would bring.


End file.
